On a December afternoon of my freshman year, I walked into my school’s familiar black box theater and sat down with my slick binder, ready to follow along at my first cast read-through for the musical Big Fish. And like a fish, I held onto that slick bait—that slick binder—and was swiftly reeled in. I fondly remember when our lead sang one of the most distinct lines from the show: “I’m my best, when not at rest / So I fight the dragons, and I storm the castles / And I win a battle or two / Then comes the day it’s time, / I’m packing up, and I am bringing all my stories home to you….” The sheet music from that melodic song still sits in that black binder which I now keep tucked away in the corner of my closet because it holds the lines I seem to live by to this day. When I look around my room, I observe the many knick-knacks, notes, books, and items of the like I’ve continued collecting over the years. I could tell the story of my excessively worn copy of Crooked Kingdom that always seems to find its way back to my bedside table no matter how often I place it back on its rightful shelf. Or, I could recount the tale of the colorful, smooth The Little Mermaid playbill that hangs with the rest of my playbills on my wall: the first live theater show I ever witnessed. Or, I could discuss the memories attached to the little clay snowman I had made in my second-grade art class that awkwardly leans on my desk because of its bottom sphere’s misshapen, egg-like shape. The riddles, posters, keepsakes, letters, and pictures that crowd my wall and even every single one of my cheap earrings in the shapes of Rubik’s cubes, wings, daggers, and moons have memories attached to them—-stories attached to them. I would go as far as to say that these items have built stepping stones to carry me to where I am now. Little freshman me would've never predicted how those Big Fish lyrics would mold my character and what I value. It has spurred my passion to continue to observe, learn, and experience, collecting souvenirs and memories along the way. My tireless pursuit of stories fuels my determination to walk down the hallways of college, taking in all the memories and ideas I can manage to keep close to my heart. Every day, I yearn to stand on my stepping stones, stretching my arms to reach higher stories. I’m electrified by the number of stories that swarm around me. I hoard these stories of people I meet, sights I see, and things I learn. I must fight the dragons, storm the castles, and bring all my stories home. No matter what path I venture through, I will continue to reach for a deeper understanding of my world because I'm at my best when not at rest.

The end of each month marked the clinking sounds as coin after coin hit the small, old dining room table. Clink. Clank. Growing up, that became such a familiar sound for me, the daughter of two Nigerian immigrant parents who came to the states for, like most, a better life. My mother stayed home each day to watch my siblings and me, while my father worked day after day as an ice cream truck driver and was primarily paid in coins for his desserts. Thus, he and my mom spent days organizing coins into groups of dollars, urging my siblings and me not to shake the table as they stacked and counted. Clink. Clank. As a child, I didn’t understand why my parents played with coins every month, but now those little coins have jingled understanding into my brain. My parents were hardworking. They are hardworking. Their diligent nature pushed them to apply for the Visa Lottery. Their diligent nature urged them to leave their families and embark on a new journey in a foreign country. Their diligent nature spurred them to earn degree after degree, certification after certification, to form that better life that they had imagined for their kids. They transformed their coins into bills using diligence and education. I plan to utilize my parents’ lessons by following in their footsteps. I climb higher towards my American dream when I gather the confidence to present in AP Research, when I visit Mr. Abel in the morning to review for an upcoming test, when I set aside hours at night to work tediously on my latest physics project, or when I bother my friends to peer review my scripts for Dramatic Writing. Scholarship money means taking a step forward to pursue a future. I was given the gift of American education, and I won’t let it slip from my grasp. Every dollar will function as another stone, allowing me to pave my way through undergrad, earn my English degree, and enter law school. Scholarship money is an investment in my future, and I hope to return the investment tenfold as I make my way through life. I’ve got the diligence of my ice cream truck days, igniting my soul. Clink. Clank.